


choking on the aftertaste

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: RWBY
Genre: Child Abandonment, F/M, Homelessness, I have boop stuck in my head, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, and Nora has a crush, or it could be read as pre relationship if you want, the main point is they aren't together atm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 01:29:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12665481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: Nora was a force of destruction in every aspect.





	choking on the aftertaste

Nora wasn't always alone. She knew this, remembers scowling faces, leaving her behind, blurred out by time. She doesn't care much, she's towns always from them, and it's been years. She thinks it has been, at least. 

She's not sure of her age.

She's not sure it matters.

What does matter is the moment, the hunger in her stomach, and the weakening of her bones. What matters is she lives, because she doesn't know what else to do. Dying like this is to painful.

So she does what she must.

(Food and wallets go missing in each town she visits.)

 

Sometimes, everyone drowns her in shouts, eyes cold and voices harsh. She shakes every time, but never speaks back, learning that it's worse if she does. She's relived when it's only shouting, even through her trembling. Sometimes, they steal her food. She fights back against that, because somewhere in her the codes written into her DNA are working, the back of her head displaying the words survive, survive, as alarms and sirens blast, drowned out by her hazy thoughts, yet echoing in her ears.

Sometimes she wonders why. Why she continues to fight so hard, clinging onto life like a desperate leach. It would be easy to let go and rot, waste away into nothing, disappear into the cracks of the earths, never seen again, never stealing again, never hurting again.

Never being held in ways that burn, adults with sneers who steal stuff way more important than food from her, yet she can't seem to fight. She can never seem to fight back.

(It hurts, when they hold her down and laugh and taunt and push, it hurts, hurts, hurts, but she doesn't fight back. She can't move, only stare wide eyed as everything goes up in smoke.)

(It would have only made it worse, she thinks, I wouldn't have been strong enough anyways.)

(They sound like excuses.)

 

 

The first time she mets him, she was curled around a piece of bread, eyes shinning with fear. There's shouting and pushing from cold eyes and calloused hands, but it's nothing new. Her trembling isn't either. She doesn't know who he is, but he looks at her with wide eyes reflecting the same amount of fear as she has, the horror under the surface seeping out. His eyes are pink, she notes, a color she always liked, but never owned anything shaded in it, only dull and tattered clothes on her muddied skin, dirt and dust coating her, filling her lungs as she breathed.

(If she had money—a thought she tried not to entertain, false hope and fake fantisies making reality even more crushing, in the end—she would buy as many pink clothes as possible.)

 

The second time she mets him the town has gone to shit.

He holds her, tells her it will be alright, as the fires roar, soft and gentle—kind. It is foreign. She never wants to let him go.

(And then he hands her a hammer, and it's like she can always hold a piece of him.)

(They've been together ever since—friends, and nothing more.)

(Even if she sometimes wanted more.)

 

Nora was smiles and energy, bruises and muscles. She met friends, besides ren, at beacon, and yet still stayed by his side. She wonders if he would disaprove of her, if he knew everything, knew his care is what destroys her, now.

(Her bruises are the same shape of a little wooden hammer, one she's keep all these years.)

(Nora was a force of destruction in every aspept—even her own.)


End file.
